iGot Pregnant
by LShbm
Summary: in response to "FearMeDearForIAmDeath"'s seddie challenge! isn't "iGot Pregnant" and "seddie" enough of a summary? i do not own iCarly. Why do we all claim not to own the character? Anyway please review! rated M for mature ideas and language. thanks! :
1. Prologue

_It's called 'Making Love' isn't it?_

_And aren't children the ultimate sign of love?_

_So this should be okay?_

_This should be accepted?_

_I shouldn't feel worried?_

_I shouldn't feel bad?_

_I shouldn't be scared?_

…_Right?_


	2. I'm Pregnant

I ran through the drugstore, searching for what I needed. If this was really happening, I would just die. I couldn't do this. I reached the 'women's' aisle in the store and picked up what I needed. I stopped to gaze longingly at a young girl, about 13, buying pads. How I wish I was her. I knew she hated her period, she _hated _it. But she was wrong, she should love her period. After all, "you don't know what you have until it's gone."

I ran to the back of the store and went into the restroom that said "employees only." I should wait until I got home to do this, but that was too long a wait. I peed on five of those tiny sticks, the sticks that would make me the most grateful teenage girl in the world, or ruin my life. I stuffed in used ones in my book bag and sprinted to the front counter to pay for the pregnancy test.

_Gulp. Pregnancy test. _

I paid my $7.99 for the god damned ten-stick kit. The sales lady hit her disgust at me, but I was sure I was not the first teenage girl in the Seattle area to purchase a pregnancy test. "Have a nice day," she said. I started to run towards the door. I heard her yell "No running!" after me. I didn't listen.

I ran to my mom's home. I didn't call it my home, because it wasn't. However, it was my house. A house is a building to live in. A home is a place to feel warm and safe, to feel comforted and loved. That was never with my alcoholic-druggy mother.

I was starting to get winded but I kept pushing myself. Maybe, if I ran fast enough and far enough this problem would go away. Too soon, I reached my house. I ran upstairs to my bedroom and tore open my book bag. I dumped them on the bed and looked at the little screen.

They were all pink pluses.

***

I didn't waste any time starting at the stupid test like the girls in the movies do. I stuffed them all back in my bag without hesitation and left the house. I started to run back in the direction I had come, to Carly's.

Ten minutes, and a two cramped legs later I was standing in the elevator of Bushwell Plaza. Lewbert had yelled at me for running in his lobby, but I ignored him. I believe he through the stupid little service bell at me. Normally I would have gone back and beaten the crap out of him, but today was different. If today was real, and not a nightmare I would never get to do the "normal" stuff again.

I burst open Carly's front door, making Spencer spill Wahoo Punch all over himself. He yelled at me but I was looking for Carly. Thankfully, she was in her bedroom with the door closed. I burst through that door and almost scared her to death. "Sam!" she scolded. I pushed her out of my way and dumped the contents of my back pack on her bed. She walked over behind me and started complaining about how she didn't want all that junk on her "sanitized sleeping area."

I didn't care. I shuffled through books and fat cake wrappers, looking for the five tests. Carly shut up once she realized I wasn't just being rude. Her eyes narrowed at what was in my hand. I collected all five tests and lined them up. She bent down and started at them.

"Oh my God, Sam. You're pregnant?"

I nodded and she pulled me into a hug. I started to cry.

***

I don't know how long we stood like that. But it felt good. Carly was my best friend, and I needed comfort. She patted me on the back a few times, a bit awkwardly. Mostly, she just let me ruin her nice shirt with my tears and runny mascara. Finally she pulled me off her. With both hands on my shoulders she looked at me and said, "Why don't you take the other five. They might come up differently."

I took the box and went into the bathroom. I peed on the other sticks and let Carly in the room. We sat on the edge of the tub and held each other's hands. The wait time on the box was five minutes. I tapped my foot on the floor, Carly was motionless. Carly set the timer on her Pear Phone. After minutes – minutes that felt like years – it went off.

We got up and walked over to the counter where the tests sat. They were all positive. "Oh Sam," Carly tired to hug me again, but I pushed her away. I went back to her bedroom and sat down in my favorite orange fluffy chair. I started at the wall. What was I going to do?

A while later Carly came in carrying two glasses of Peppy Cola. I was sure she hadn't gone downstairs and told Spencer. Spencer and she were very close; they knew almost everything about each other. But, if she had told Spencer he would have screamed and I would have heard.

She handed me my drink and pushed my book bag crap off her bed. She sat down and sipped her Peppy Cola, the whole time staring at me. "Sam?" she said, timidly. I looked up. "Who's the father?"

I stared at her, long and hard. It was intense. So intense, that she knew before I could say it out loud. But she insisted, I don't think she could believe what she was in my eyes.

"Sam, who is the father?" she demanded. I took a gulp.

"Freddie."

***

_It was my seventeenth birthday, April 14__th__. Freddie and I had been dating "officially" about four months. We were "friends with benefits" before that. Carly had thrown be a big party at her house. We had at least 30 guests. I had a huge pile of gifts. 50% of which, I would probably hate. _

_Never the less, I went to inspect them. I had a good size box from Carly, a HUGE box from Spencer (probably a sculptor), but I couldn't find Freddie's box. I expected him to get me something nice, something very nice. After all we had been dating long enough for me to expect something nice. I was starting to get worried when I felt his arms around me from behind. _

"_Looking for my present?" he whispered into my ear. I turned myself around to face him. A slow song came on the big stereo system. People in the room started to dance. Freddie and I were no exception. "Yes," I said guiltily. His eyes swept over me with something I had never seen in them before. It was almost… no, never mind. It couldn't be. _

"_It's that little box?" he pointed to a little jewelry box on the table next to my pile of gifts. _

"_Jewelry?" I asked, and started to pull away. I wanted to open my present. _

"_Wait Sam, not now. I have to leave after this dance, I want to be with you for this." _

"_You don't want to put my gift on me?" I asked, disappointed. _

"_I'll get to see it on you later. And you don't know its jewelry." _

"_Later?" I repeated. "I thought you were leaving?" before he could answer the song ended. _

"_Goodbye, love" he said, and kissed me. The kiss was sweet, passionate. My heart thumped at the word "love." He had told me he loved me on his seventeenth birthday. That was more of a birthday treat to me. But, maybe saying "I love you too" in response was a gift. _

_I went over to the little box and picked it up. "Not opening your presents already, Sam?" hollered a guy from my school. He sounded drunk, probably was. "No!" I laughed. But I had to open this box. I stuffed it into the side of my skirt, and let my arms hang down by my side to cover it up. I rushed over to the bathroom. Inside, I locked the doors and sat down on the bathtub. _

_I ripped off the wrapping paper, not pausing to look at the pretty pattern. It was a Macy's box. It was long, rectangular. It must be a necklace. I took a breath and open the tiny box. I gasped. It wasn't a necklace, it was the most beautiful bracelet I had ever seen. _

_The bracelet was sterling silver with diamonds cut into it. The little diamonds glistened and refracted the light. I could see a little area on the wall that looked like a flash light was being shown on it. It was my bracelet. The pattern formed a chain, identical to the pattern of a prison chain. Only my chain was beautiful. It must have cost Freddie a fortune. _

_I took the bracelet out of the box and put it on my wrist. It fix perfectly, hanging a little but not enough to fall off. The little bracelet looked like it was made to live on my wrist. I only wished Freddie could have put it on. _

_In the process of putting on my bracelet I dropped the box. "Shit," I muttered. Cussing was a habit of mine when something went wrong. Out of the box fluttered a little note. I opened it up and read. _

Dear Sam –

Come to the hotel on St. James Blvd.

Room 418.

At 10 o'clock tonight.

I will be waiting.

Love, Freddie

_I had to go to the hotel. After my party I was supposed to spend the night with Carly. I told her I wasn't feeling 100% and I needed to go home. For some reason, she believed me. But I was thankful. I hadn't paused to think of what Freddie I wanted, though, if I had I could have guessed. _

_I walked down the streets in my raincoat, it was Seattle after all. The rain was blowing at me and getting my hair wet even under the hat. It was chilly for April, I was getting flushed from the elements. _

_I stepped into the warm hotel, taking a moment to scan the room. It looked like a nice enough place. Way nicer than anything I would stay in with my mother, but shabby enough that Carly would never step foot in it. I walked over to the elevator and clicked the up arrow. I always loved clicking elevator buttons as a child. I went up to the fourth floor. I got out and started to walk down the hallway to room 418. On the way, I passed a fat man around his late 40s with a dirty white shirt and a Seattle Cobra's baseball cap. He started at me but I didn't make eye contact. _

_I was starting to get nervous as I approached room 418. But I got there without looking back and knocked. Freddie opened the door. He was wearing the same thing he had been at my party, but something was different about him. I could smell some cologne he had put on since then. But I think the change was in his personality._

"_Sam" he said. He pulled me in the door. He started to kiss me. Once I pulled away to breath, he moved down to my neck. The room was covered in candles; the lights were dimmed, almost turned off. The bed was huge, and looming. I realized what was happening. I inhaled, sharply. He stopped and looked at me. "No?" he asked. I looked around. Did I want this? I had never taken this fantasy seriously; I had never thought Freddie would be serious about doing it either. I looked in his eyes. They said it all. They told me they loved me, they told me that he wanted me. _

"_Yes," I whispered. He picked me up and carried me to the bed, where there was no more talking for the rest of the night. _

***

I returned from my flashback to hear Carly yelling at me. "SAM! You and Freddie had _sex? _EW! Yuck! I can't even _imagine _that! I've known you both since like before fourth grade! EW, EW. My two oldest friends had sex… ew."

"Yes, Carly. We had sex. And now I am pregnant." It was like a knife through my stomach, those words. Carly's eyes, which were filled with anger, melted. "Oh Sam…" she said, and pulled me into another hug.


	3. The Abortion Clinic

_Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews. To answer one of your questions, Carly asked Sam who the father was more out of shock than anything. But, there was a little wondering, we all know Sam is a bit of a wild card. ;) Okay, here's chapter 2:_

* * *

"Sam," Carly said, "you have to tell him."

"Who?" I asked, my mind wasn't on the question.

"Freddie! If he's the father than he needs to know!"

"What do you mean 'if'" I demanded. Carly turned an intense shade of rouge.

"If was just a word used to make the s-sentence flow i-in t-the situation! I didn't mean anything by it!" she stuttered.

"It's okay…" I shrugged it off, "but why do I have to tell Freddie?" Carly looked at me like I was an idiot.

"I think he's going to notice." I pouted.

"Carly, I can't tell him." I really couldn't.

"Sam, you have to" she said.

"No chance in hell," I responded, point blank.

"Then I'm going to."

"No, you're not" I said.

"If you're not then I'm going to" Carly said. Why was she being so difficult?

"Carly, if anyone tells him it has to be me. But I may not. I might get an abortion." Carly's mouth formed a tiny 'O'. Her eyes become dinner plates. "Sam!" Carly protested, "You can't get an abortion! That's murder! Its-it's terrible! Its man slaughter!"

"Carly I was raised without morals, if you don't say anything I won't be able to go through with it!"

"You can't!" she screeched. The words pierced my heart. I hated seeing Carly in so much pain. But why was she in pain? I was the one who, according to Carly, was about to commit murder. "I'm sorry, but this isn't your decision." I said, and walked out of the room. Before I shut the door, I took one last look at Carly, she shook her head. I bit my lip and left.

***

Even thought I had only found out I was pregnant that day, I had to deal with the baby immediately. I wasn't a very organized person; I hadn't realized I had missed my period until I overheard some girls at school complaining about PMS. I didn't even know how many periods I had missed. I wanted to say only one, but I had an inkling it was more like two or three.

I had no idea where to go, though. I called information and asked for abortion clinics. They gave me directions to one across town. It was run for teens. Teens without money.

I hopped on a bus and rode across town. On the way I thought of what a whirlwind today has been. I find out I'm pregnant, I have a meltdown with Carly, and down I am riding to go get an abortion. The day was moving so quickly, but in slow motion at the same time. There are no words for that. I felt like I hovering above myself, watching. It was kind of an out of body experience.

I got off the bus and walked to the clinic. It was only three blocks from the bus stop. I paused to take a look at the tiny, dirty, white building. I pulled open the big glass doors and went inside.

It smelled like cleaning fluid. A girl sitting behind the desk was chewing a pink wad up gum. "Name?" she asked when I walked up. She blew a pink bubble. It burst. "Uh, Melony Harthorn." She rolled her eyes at my made up name, I guess she must hear a lot of stupid names. "Uh-huh. The doctor will be with you shortly."

I sat down in the gross maroon chairs. The office had a color scheme of moldy green and gross maroon. I tapped my food while waiting for the doctor. I heard a shriek from one of the rooms. I took a quick breath, _would that be me? What do they do to the baby? How to they… kill it?_ I thought.

A woman, maybe 20, walked out of one of the practice rooms. She was lifting up her shirt and starting at four big band-aids on her stomach. I gulped. Shots, that's how they got rid of the baby.

"Melony Harthorn?" a nurse called. I stood up and walked towards her. She led me down a long hallway, towards a tiny room. "The doctor will be back shortly." She told me.

I look around the room. It was an off white color – a dirty white almost. It smelled like they used cheap cleaning products, and they probably did. I lay down on the cot and closed my eyes. I felt sick to my stomach. Carly's words kept coming back to me. "Its murder!" she had said. Was it murder? It couldn't be. Women had abortions all the time. I was starting to feel really sick. I clutched my stomach. I ran over to the sink and got myself a glass of water. I could barley choke it down. I heard the door open but I couldn't react, I knew what was about to happen. My body convulsed and I bent in two, everything that was in my stomach came up, all over the floor. The doctor's mouth opened slightly, but he was no completely shocked. I made eye contact with him and Carly's piercing words flooded my head "You can't!" this man was sick, he was a killer.

I pushed past the doctor and ran.

***

I ran as hard as I could. Guilt swept over me, it told me I was monstrous for trying to take another's life, monstrous for even considering it.

I ran seven blocks before stopped and clutched my side. Seven blocks? I used to be able to do 12 without breaking a sweat. This was terrible. I stood and breathed. Carly was right, I couldn't get an abortion. The guilt of even considering it was eating me alive. I hopped a cab and rode back to Carly apartment. I took the elevator back up to her apartment. Before I opened her door I looked at Freddie's. I would have to tell him. I had a moment of bravery, and decided to tell him right then. I knocked on the door. I prayed he was home, if I couldn't tell him now I never would. His mother answered the door.

"Hello, Samantha" she said coolly. I realized I would have to tell her eventually to. She would absolutely murder me. "Freddie home?" I asked.

"_Is_ Freddie home," she corrected my grammar, "and yes. I will get him." she was reluctant to do so. "Would you like to come in?"

"No thanks" I said. I didn't want her to be around when I let the bomb drop. Before I knew it Freddie was opening the door and standing in front of me. "Sam" he said. He pulled me into a hug and started to kiss me. I pulled away; this was the type of thing that leads us to do the other thing that got us into this situation. He knew something was wrong, I never pulled away. "What's wrong?" he asked, "you don't look very good."

"Follow me," I said. We walked down the hallway. I didn't know if his mother would be looking out the peep hole, this was just a precaution. "Sam," he demanded once we were far enough, "what's wrong?"

I took a shuttered breath. "I'm pregnant, Freddie."

He stuttered. "W-what n-no that's not p-possible. It's just – no you can't be- its – just- NO!" he burst. He paused, "I get it," he laughed, with a mad glint in his eye, "this is a joke right?" but I didn't have to answer. He knew from my expression this was no joke. He took a breath, and got very calm. Unnaturally calm. "What are we going to do?" I choked back the tear.

"I don't know," I whispered. It was barely audible. He pulled me into a tight bear hug. This time I didn't resist, I felt safe in his arms.


	4. Telling the Parents

"We'll need to go see an obstetrician."

"A what?" I said, dazed.

"A baby doctor!" Freddie snapped, but he started making a list of things we need to do. "We'll need to go to the doctor and see how far along you are. We need to put you on a diet" I started to protest but he cut me off "you HAVE to go on a diet Sam, do not even try to get out of it. We'll need to look into adoptive parents, since you don't want to keep it and… we'll need to tell our parents."

That list almost made me break down in tears as I had been doing so many times today. But I didn't, they started to fight me but I fought back, pushing them back down my throat. "What should we do first?" I asked.

"I think we should tell our parents first."

_Fuck. Why that first? _

"Why?" I whined.

"Because neither of us has any money and we'll need them to pay for the doctors until I find a job! But I doubt they will, they really just need to pay for this first appointment. I can work for the rest."

"You would go to work?" I ask.

"Of course, I am the… dad, aren't I?" paused at the word dad, I think it scared him.

I reassured him, "of course you are."

"Okay, whose parents should we tell first?" he says.

"Mine, I might not be alive after yours." I make a small attempt at a joke. Instead of laughing, Freddie's eyes harder. "No, you may not be."

"Okay, let's go now."

"Sam, you've done a lot today. Maybe you should rest."

"I want to get exercise before I start to look like a whale!" a whale, oh my god. Soon I am going to be one of those pregnant women waddling around on the street.

***

We open to door to my house and peek inside. "Mom?" I call out. I hope she was sober enough to understand what was going on. Also sober enough to remember who Freddie and I were.

"Did you tell her we were dating?" he whispers.

"Yes, but don't expect her to remember." We walk into the living room. No lights are on, except the glowing of the TV and some light peeking through the closed blinds. My mother was asleep with a can of booze in one hand. Every time I see her like this it hurts me, even thought she has been a drunk since my father abandoned us. I hated her for that. The time I needed her most, she was too selfish to care. She was a coward.

"Mother," I shook her awake and flipped off the TV. She waved the bottle at me.

"Who dere?" she questioned.

"Samantha."

"Hh?" she said, which I took to mean 'who.'

"Sam, your daughter," I said. Freddie looked like he was about to be sick. This was the reason no one is every at my house. "Aw Samantha!" my mother crooned, "Give ya momma a hug!" she swiped at the air around her, trying to reach me. I refused to touch her. I made Freddie get her a glass of water and I made her take a cold shower. She came out a little less drunk.

"Sit down" I ordered her. She plopped down on the couch. She seemed a little cranky for me at making her tidy up. I was used to that, but I knew Freddie wasn't and I didn't want her to blow up at me in front of me. "Who's that?" she pointed at Freddie as if seeing him for the first time.

"That's Freddie," I responded. I didn't go into further detail; she would know soon enough the relationship between us.

"Lemme guess" her words slurred, "your prewnant?" she was talking with a lisp, mocking me.

"Actually yes," said Freddie, "and I'm the father."

"Well duh ya dumb ass! Why else would ya be sitting in my house?" I tensed up, she wasn't allowed to call any one my friends, especially Freddie, a dumb ass. "Not worth a fight" Freddie whispered to me. My mother was laughing at herself, she thinks she's funny.

"Bout time" she said gruffly. "I got pregnant with ya when I was fifteen. My mother the same… it's what the Puckett's do" she giggled. "He's a good looking one too" she pointed at Freddie, "I fell in love with TRASH! FUCKING TRASH!" she started screaming. I ushered Freddie out of the house, we had to leave before she got physically violent.

"Shouldn't we do something?" he questions.

"The only thing to do would be to give her most drink. That would calm her down. But she doesn't deserve more drink, and I'm not going to be the one to kill her with alcohol." Freddie bit his lip. "What?" I ask.

"I never knew your mom was that bad." He says.

"Are you kidding, Freddie? She was practically sober." I say bitterly.

"Do you ever- no never mind." Freddie stops himself.

"Do I ever what? Freddie tell me!" I order, I was pretty sick of this day, I didn't want to play games.

"Do you ever wish your mom wasn't an alcoholic?" He asks quietly. I stopped walking, no one had ever asked me that before. Not ever Carly. They had hinted at the question, but I always acted really clueless and they got embarrassed and walked away. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," said Freddie, "did I offend you?"

"No but… I'll get back to you on that answer. Okay?" I said, timidly. Timidly, probably the first time I've spoken like that in my life. "That's fine," Freddie caresses my cheek. He sighs, "ready to go tell my mother?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

***

I am sitting on the Bensons still new smelling leather couch. Freddie is sitting next to me, massaging the small of my back. I'm sure he can feel how tight me muscles are, my back must feel like a rock. But I am too worried to really care. Mrs. Benson went to go make us some 'snacks,' I am sure whatever it is I won't be able to eat it. Freddie told me he has basically stopped eating at home, except when his mother is at work, and then he can eat whenever he pleases.

Mrs. Benson walked out of her kitchen with a tray of something. "They're whole-grain crisp bread with cottage cheese and dried peas on top. And in this bowl is some bean salad." Mrs. Benson says. A wave of pity washes over me, she tries so hard. Freddie gives me a warning look; he must have had this snack before. "Hand sanitizer?" said Mrs. Benson. I take it without a word. She sits down on an armchair that matches the couch. "So what do you have to tell me?" Mrs. Benson asks, kindly. Freddie and I exchange a look; we each want each other to say it. He takes the leap,

"Sam is pregnant, mom." Mrs. Benson's mouth drops a little.

"And you're the father?"

"Of course!" Freddie snaps, offended. The next sound I hear is something I will never forget. Mrs. Benson starts to wail, tears gushing out of her eyes like Niagara Falls. Her crying should irritate me, even piss me off. But it doesn't.

It actually hits a nerve, a sensitive one. Her tears stab me somewhere in the chest, maybe where my heart is. Why do I feel this way? Maybe because over the years I have grown fond of Mrs. Bensons crazy ways. The thought of that makes me what to puke. Maybe it's because I'm pregnant, and mood swings are expected. Or maybe it's because my mother never showed any emotion like this towards me.

Whatever the reason, her crying made me feel tearful myself. And helpless. She was balling and I didn't know what to do. I started to get up of the couch, but Freddie grabbed my arm and pulled me back. He whispered something that sounded like 'just give her a minute,' but I didn't listen. I was too concerned with the woman who was showing more emotions in this minute than I had seen in an entire lifetime.

Mrs. Benson slowly regained control, hiccupping a few times in the process. She put a hand over her heart, and then lunged at my throat. I let out a war cry and punched her when she was about a foot away from my face. This set her into a whole new round of hysterics, and also made me feel incredibly guilty, but I was justified to do so, it was self defense. Freddie knew I was upset he started to massage the small of my back again, and whispered to me. I leaned away, I didn't want comfort. Actually, I wanted to leave.

This time Mrs. Benson regained control quicker. She started at Freddie and me for a moment. "Samantha, could you please step out into the hallway while I have a word with Freddie?" she said, her voice quivering with rage. _Gladly_, I thought. I stepped up and made my way to the front door.

Standing outside Freddie's front door, for the umpteenth time today, I could practically feel the floor vibrating. I sighed and leaned against the rattling door.


	5. Huge, phenomenal, LIFE CHANGING News

If there is one male role model in my life it's Spencer. My stomach fells like it just fell off the Eiffel Tower. I now know how normal teenage girls feel when they have to tell their parents they are pregnant. My palms break out into a cold sweat.

Carly grabs me by the arm and drags me into the house. She shuts the door behind us, "SPENCER!" she yells, "SAM'S HERE!"

"HEY SAM!" Spencer calls.

"I'M GONNA MAKE A RUN TO GROOVY SMOOTHEE, DO YOU WANT ANYTHING?" Carly hollers. All this yelling wasn't helping my already jittery nerves.

"YEAH! GET ME THAT NEW THING!"

"THE ONE WITH COCONUT?"

"NO THE ONE WITH KIWI!"

"GOT IT! BRB." She looks at me, expecting me to place my order, but I just shrug. "Whatever?" she asks. I nod. She gives me a look telling me that Spencer needs to know by the time she gets back.

Carly leaves and the door shuts with a click. I walk in the direction Spencer's voice was coming from. I go up the stairs and go into his bedroom. He has two crates of potatoes sitting next to him and he is peeling each one. He puts the peels in a bucket. There are two already full buckets and he has hardly made a dent in the first crate.

"Uh, Spence?" I ask.

"I'm making a sculpture out of potato peels and…" I tune him out after the first part. I am so used to Spencer's crazy ideas and right now I am more concerned about how I am going to slip "I'm pregnant" into the conversation.

I go and sit on his bed. He is still babbling away about his sculpture and how he might barbecue some of the peels, or cook them or do something to them. I can't think of a single way to tell him without having to say the dreaded words. I am about to panic when I unintentionally belt out,

"Spencer, I'm pregnant."

"No I don't think pressing the potatoes would work they're potatoes after all…"

"Spencer, I'm pregnant," I say with more force. He gets it this time.

"Ha-ha-ha, oh Sam…" he tried to make it sound like a joke, but even Spencer cannot turn this into something humorous.

"I'm not kidding."

Spencer claps his hand to his chest, "OH MY GAWD!" he screams. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" he repeats.

"Spencer, please stop," I whisper, but he cannot hear me over his yelling. Now he is screaming, but no words, just noise. Finally he runs out of oxygen and has to inhale. He makes the awful noise of air trying to go in and out lungs at the same time.

"SAM PUCKETT! WHAT DID YOU DO?" he yells in my face. A strange feeling of puckish-ness descends on me, I decide to have some fun with this.

"I had se-"

"NO! DON'T SAY IT!" he interrupts me.

"What? Sex?" I ask innocently. "Spencer, you can't tell me you're a virgin?"

"AGHH!" he screams. The awkwardness of the situation is almost too much, I almost crack up, but I don't. I want to seem totally clueless of how he is feeling.

"Or, don't say that I had sex with Freddie?" Spencer's chest starts to convulse, he is whining too. I wonder how on earth he gave Carly a sex talk. Maybe he didn't.

I decide to be merciful and stop teasing him. I pick at my shoe while he calms down. Carly comes home before he is breathing normal again. I'm getting annoyed so I just pull him off his bed, without worrying about his feelings anymore. He has his hands in claws by his face, like he was trying to fight something away but froze in the process. His head is pushed back against his neck making the skin under his neck look like a double chin. He has his eyes squeezed shut. I wonder what he is thinking.

"I'VE GOT SMOOTHEE'S!" Carly yells. I pull Spencer down the stairs by his arm, his feet go down them automatically, I guess stairs are something the body gets accustomed too.

Carly takes a look at Spencer and says in a flat voice, "I guess you told him."

"NAH!" Spencer responds.

"He didn't take it well," I tell her.

"I see." She walks over to Spencer and looks him in the eye. He starts to unwind his tense limbs when she thumps him on the forehead. "OUCH!" he yells, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

"He's back," she tells me; "he does that when he's had a bad shock. Spencer?" she directs her speech at him, "Sam is pregnant. Do _not _go into your shock coma again. Understand?"

He nods and looks at me warily. I shrug. Carly ignores the awkwardness between us and starts to hand out our smoothie's. Spencer gets his kiwi thing and I get my coconut. I'm about to take a sip when the smell of rotten bacon hits me.

I clap my hand to my mouth and start to run in the direction of the bathroom. My feet do not feel like they are moving fast enough, but soon enough I am over the toilet throwing up everything I ate that day. I am too busy retching I do not notice Carly come in and hold my hair. Finally, when everything I have had to eat that day is gone, I look up. "Thanks…" I mutter.

She hands me a glass of water and a toothbrush I always have at her house. I take them gratefully. If there is one thing I hate – actually, there is many more than one, but this one if near the top of the list – it's the taste of puke. Carly looks at me with tears in her eyes and quickly reaches out to hug me. I wish she would stop being so sensitive about this pregnancy thing; as I am the one pregnant, her tears are a source of unwelcome annoyance.

I decide to spend the night at Carly's and, other than my gag reflexes being completely out of whack, it was just like old times. We were leaning next to each other on the couch and I was feeling truly happy for the first time since this pregnancy fiasco started when Carly opens her damn mouth and ruins it, "Sam… what are you going to do when people realize you're pregnant?"

"I don't know… I guess I'll just take out anybody who calls me a whore… but other than that I don't know what else I can do." Carly gives me a long sympathetic look and turns away. suddenly she whips her head back towards me.

"iCarly," she whispers. My jaw drops.

"oh fuck…" I mutter. "I haven't thought about that at all…"

"What are we gonna do?" she asks.

"Do you think we can just pretend I'm fat?" she shakes her head no.

"No, we have some smart viewers. They'll figure it out. And then…" she trails off.

"What?" I ask, frantic.

"and then they'll want to know who the father is." She whispers.

I don't know why this is such big news, but it hits us each like a ton of bricks. "I don't know why that's bad." I tell her.

"I don't either, but I know it's bad." We sit in silence for a few minutes, contemplating what we are going to do.

"you know if you're pregnant, Sam, people are going to stop watching, especially if it's Freddie's. you'll get hate mail and parents will get involved… People will say iCarly is a bad influence."

"But we're not an influence." I say, stupidly.

"Millions of people watch us each week and you think we're not an influence?"

"I'm sorry… that was a stupid question…" we sit in silence for a few more minutes then I ask, "when should we tell them?"

"I don't know. Would you rather have someone tell you their pregnant, or wait for you to figure it out yourself?" she says.

"I would rather someone told me." I respond, already know where this is going to go.

"Then we have to tell them."

"I know. When should we do it?" I really don't want to do it soon, but maybe it's better to get it over with.

"I'd be better to get it over with," Carly says. Hmm, great minds think alike. "If we wait it's going to be really awkward on camera, once we get it off our chests we'll be able to go on with the show like normal."

"Carly," I say, as the realization hits me, "nothing is ever going to be the same. Ever. I'm pregnant, there is a baby growing inside me, and I'm not getting rid of it."

"What are you going to do with it?" Carly asks me, curious. Her question confused me, she doesn't actually think I'm going to _keep it_ does she?

"I'm sure as hell not keeping it!"

"okay… just wondering…" her voice trails off again. "But, Sam? you better tell Freddie. And make sure it's oaky with him."

"why should it be okay with him?"

"It's his kid too! and I think he thinks you're planning on keeping it!"

"really?" I ask, I had no idea.

"Yes," she tells me, urgently. She must have thought I knew.

"I'll talk to him later," I've had enough drama for a while, I'd like to just chill with Carly. But Carly seems insistent on making me think about things, "when should we tell the viewers? I say next show."

"So soon?" I question.

"Yeah."

"alright. I'll trust you, you're better with people than I am."

For the rest of the week I worry about the upcoming iCarly show. I know what I am supposed to say – Carly told me – and I also know when and how to say it. but I cant keep from worrying. Freddie and Carly assured me that they wouldn't let anyone talk to us via video on the air right after the announcement. I don't want to get into a fight with one of our viewers, me being pregnant is enough drama for one show.

Freddie is just as worried as I am. I am not telling the viewers he is the father, at least not yet. In fact, all I want to tell them is 'my boyfriend' is the father. But Carly doesn't like that idea, she thinks its dishonest and she also thinks' that sooner or later someone will guess.

I know it will be more than guessing. People who know us personally and go to our school watch iCarly. Most of them know I'm dating Freddie. One of them will let the rest of the world know that he is the father.

This whole situation is making me sick, figuratively and literally.

I have been throwing up at everything lately. It's almost as if my body is making up for the weeks of no morning sickness by making me retch at everything I see, taste, or smell. All the foods I love have become deadly poisons for my system, and all the foods that normally make me want to puke – like veggies – have become a lifesaver. The only food I can still enjoy is Hawaiian pizza. In fact, I've been eating it by the bucket load. Spencer and Carly have a constant supply of microwave Hawaiian pizza on hand and now instead of going to groovy smoothie, I go to a pizza place.

The week flies by, no doubt because of my fear of the next iCarly episode. But soon enough, I'm in the small theater and Freddie is counting down, "in five… four… three… two…"

"HEY! I'M CARLY!"

"AND I'M" – _don't say pregnant, don't say pregnant, don't say pregnant! – _"SAM!"

"THIS IS iCARLY!" Carly is such a good actress, she appears to be worried about nothing. We do out bits and the show goes by quicker than normal. Too soon it's the end.

"Before we go we have some news we'd like to share with you," Carly says. "everyone has or will have a huge, phenomenal, LIFE CHANGING thing happen to them. well we have one right here on iCarly!" damn her, she's making this sound like a good thing. All though, that approach could work…

"Sam? you have some news?" she asks me. I feel like I am about to puke again, for the millionth time that week, but I ignore it and push the words out,

"I'm pregnant." It's almost a whisper. Carly hits the applause button. Freddie looks at his computer and his face goes from grave to deadly serious.

"so we have some cool things we can do with this! You guys can send us your funniest baby pic and the one we think is the best will be posted right here on iCarly! From now on, we're going to be doing one cool pregnancy thing a week, or at least until Sam has the little tot. Okay! Hasta la Vista! Chow! Sianara!"

"and we're clear…" Freddie says, without any enthusiasm. In fact, he sounds like he's at a funeral. "Carly when you said Sam was pregnant, over three thousand views signed off! Immediately!"

"But we have millions of viewers," Carly says.

"Yes, but if three thousand sign off when they're not sure if you're kidding or not imagine how many people will be signing off when Sam's as big as a watermelon! This isn't good."

"No chizz," I snap.

"excuse me!" he yells back.

"HEY!" Carly interrupts. "it's going to be bad enough to hear what people are going to say… let's not fight too."

She's right. All three of us go downstairs to eat dinner and wait for emails to come in. before we get downstairs we have already gotten over one thousand, and loads more are coming. As we eat dinner Freddie reads them too us.

"Dear Sam," he says, "'who is the father?' I dunno Sam, who is the father?" he gives me a seductive look, remembering the times that got us into this mess. "Ew," Carly chirps, "not in front of me, please."

"'Dear whore, I cannot believe you got pregnant! I'm going to stop watching iCarly because now I have lost all respect for you.' Sorry, Sam." Carly and Freddie both give me sympathetic looks.

Most of the emails are like this, but some are nice. Some people tell me they are sorry, others congratulate me. most ask who the father is. The ones calling me a whore really anger me. I hate how when it comes to sex for boy it equals score, and for girl it equals whore.

Carly, Freddie, and I all fall asleep on Carly's couch. I dream of eating Hawaiian pizza. I don't get full, I just keep eating and eating. My belly grows huge and all of a sudden, in its place, is a baby. The baby grabs my pizza and starts to eat it. I tell the kid to stop, but it doesn't, it just keeps eating more and more. I try to pull the pizza away from it, but it bites my hand. It seems to have a taste for my hand, because it starts to chew on it, tearing away the skin. The pain is getting too intense for me to handle,

Then I wake up.

"just a dream…" I pant. I realize I am laying on my arm and it has fallen asleep, a source of where the pain is coming from. Freddie, who is sitting next to me, appears to be having a not-so-peaceful sleep also. I grab his arm and wrap it around me, also putting my head on his shoulder. He wakes up.

"Sam?" he asks, groggily.

"Shh. Go back to sleep," I whisper. He wraps his other arm around me, so I am completely entwined by him, and kisses my on the forehead. "Goodnight," he whispers.

"Goodnight," I whisper back.


	6. Why is this such a big deal?

I woke up to Carly shaking my shoulders frantically. Freddie pulled his arms away from me and stretched, yawning. I rubbed my eyes, "Wha?" I asked.

"SAM! I AM AN _IDIOT! _OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" ugh, it was too early for screaming.

"What time is it?" Freddie asked. _Too early, _I thought.

"It's six o'clock, we have school! Sam…" she was almost sobbing.

"What's wrong?" Freddie questioned.

"WE ARE MORONS! I CANT BELIEVE HOW STUPID WE'VE BEEN! WE DIDN'T HAVE TO TELL ICARLY SAM WAS PREGNANT!" she was giving me a headache. If she didn't pipe down Spencer was going to come running and she was going to wake up the rest of the building. I wanted to tell her to shut up, but I was curious about what she was saying. Of course we had to tell iCarly I was pregnant! They would figure it out.

"Yes we did," I told her.

"No! We didn't! SAM we could have just _hid _you behind stuff! Like a purse of a plant of a stuffed animal or something! Or we could have an episode where we dress up in giant fruits! They didn't have to see you! We just screwed ourselves!"

"Oh my God…" I whispered as I let her words sink it. I heard Freddie say the same thing.

"We just made a huge mess of things… and it could have been prevented. And we can't fix it!" Freddie exclaimed. I couldn't say anything; I just sat there with my mouth open. I was so upset, I couldn't believe how screwed we were. I was searching for something that could prove that we had to tell the iCarly audience that I was pregnant but all I got was, "Someone from school would have let it out."

"The school LOVES us. They LOVE having international web stars there. I don't think they would do that…" Carly said. She was right.

I couldn't believe how stupid we had been. Then, speaking of school, "school is going to be hell today," I said.

"I know," Freddie mumbled and Carly nodded, "I have to go take a shower. Bye guys" and he walked out of the room. I stared at Carly and she stared back, we didn't know what to say. Finally she said, "We should get ready for school."

"I'm not going to school," I told her. For once she didn't try to persuade me otherwise, she just walked over to the counter top and tossed me my purse. I snatched it out of the air and headed for the door, not sure where the day would take me.

***

I stood in the shower and let the water rush over me. I needed to get out and get dressed to go to school, but the shower was so therapeutic and I was in a trace, the minute I got out I would have to snap back to reality.

My mother was away on a business trip so I had the apartment to myself. It was rare that she left me alone for an extended period of time; in fact it was so rare I was always surprised to find myself alone. She was worried I would get into trouble, and I guess in a way she was right. She was on a business trip on the night I spent with Sam and that got me into the mess that was announced to the entire world last night.

I was so ashamed at how stupid we had been not to think of hiding Sam behind things. What were we thinking? It would have been so _simple. _I just couldn't believe it…

I finally got out of the shower and got dressed. I was sitting down to eat a bowl of cereal when I remembered I had turned my phone off last night before iCarly because I didn't want people texting me to see if it was true.

I expected messages, but I did not expect the magnitude of messages I got. I had _over 100 _in less than 12 hours. I had suddenly become popular, I'm sure ninety-five percent of these people had to ask around for my number instead of having themselves.

I flipped through them as I spooned large mouthfuls of cheerios in my mouth. Most were "is it true?" or "who's the father?" or, better yet, "are you the father?" I didn't respond to any, my schoolmates would see me soon enough.

_I wonder what I'll say to them…_ I pondered while taking up my bowl to the sink and grabbing my backpack, heading towards the door.

Instead of taking the school bus I hailed a cab; I wanted to put this off seeing people as long as I could. When the driver pulled up to my school an unusually large crowd was hanging around outside. When I got out of the cab I was met with stares from every person in the vicinity. I tried to look everywhere but their eyes, and was unsuccessful. I did noticed the "Congratulations class of 2010!" poster hanging on the front of the school. I did a double take, wondering why there was graduation stuff already hanging around, and then realized that it was _JUNE. _

I gasped. How did it get to be _JUNE _already? I did a quick calculation in my head and realized that it was, in fact, June. Sam and I had sex on her birthday, April tenth, and now it was June, seven weeks and a few days later. I shook my head; this pregnancy thing was making me lose it. I thought to myself jokingly, _I bet I have SAT's tomorrow too! _ Then panicked wondering if I actually did, but I didn't and I went on my way.

I was by the front door of the school before anyone came up to me. It was a girl whose I don't know, but she's known for being very blunt. "Are you the father?" she asked.

_SHIT! _I thought, I wasn't prepared for this. What am I supposed to say? Yes? Well then yes, I am the father. But it didn't seem right, it made me too nervous. So I just sputtered,

"You have to ask Sam." She looked disappointed, but walked away. I let out a gush of air, _whew, that's done with, _I though, naively. WRONG.

I pulled open the front door of the school and met by a mob of students. "FREDDIE!" they would yell, "WHO'S THE FATHER?" "ARE YOU THE FATHER?" "WHAT'S SHE GOING TO DO WITH THE BABY?" I backed up into the wall. "I-I" I was stuttering again, I couldn't form a sentence. I tried unsuccessfully to answer questions, but every time I answered one a whole new round of Q's hit me. Finally I screamed, "YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO ASK SAM!"

I pushed past them and went to my locker. I couldn't concentrate at any point during the day. Everyone was staring! Some glanced at me pitifully, other looked angry. Some looked stunned. A few times when I caught people looking at me they would look away, but most people surprisingly took it as their queue to come up and ask me questions. I ignored some people but most of the time I answered with "you have to ask Sam."

I was beginning to get a headache when it was finally time for lunch. I walked into the cafeteria to go sit at the table that Carly, Sam, and I usually sit at. Before I reached it I looked up and realized that every seat was taken and some were being shared by two people. Everyone had turned to look at me when I walked in. Carly gave me a wide eyed deer-in-the-headlights look that I receive with an _I know _look. I normally saw her between classes but today I hadn't seen her at all. I guess people were pestering her.

I turned around and walked over to the table with my friends from the A.V. club. I was greeted with _I can't believe you _looks. "Hi," I said. No one responded for at least fifteen seconds, long enough to feel extremely awkward. "I can't believe you got a girl pregnant!" someone burst out.

"Didn't you use protection?" another demanded. I was about to apologize to them (Lord knows _why. _They're happy! The rest of the school is _talking_ to them, asking if they know anything about it!) but I was snapped back to the reality when someone asked me, "You are the father, _aren't you_?"

That kids question reminded me that only the Shay's, my family, and Sam's mom know that I am the father. "You have to ask Sam," I said. They didn't let it go; they kept asking me questions to get me to admit who was the father. It wasn't like I could outsmart these guys either, a fourth of them were geniuses!

Finally I got up and went to the bathroom to lock myself in a stall and eat the rest of my lunch. I could hear a few people waiting outside the door to talk to me once I got out, but being guys they felt weird waiting for someone in the bathroom and left. I waited in there until the bell rang, so I would ensure myself no one would have time to talk to me. I was always early to class, but today I would make an exception.

I was on my way to trigonometry when the loudspeaker crackled to life. "Carly Shay and Freddie Benson, would you please report to Principal Franklin's office? Carly Shay, and Freddie Benson to the principal's office." I gulped. I had _NO_ idea what Principal Franklin would have to say. The few people around me gave me weary looks, it still bugged me but I was going to have to get used to that sooner or later.

I dragged my feet to his office, walking as slowly as possible. I felt like I had to tell my mother I was pregnant all over again, only a little less extreme, but only a little less. The secretary wouldn't look at me; she pretended to busy herself with paperwork. I knocked on Principal Franklin's door and he called "Come in!" in a deep exasperated voice. Carly was already sitting down. She looked at nervous as I felt. She had been playing with her hands while they waited for me.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Sit," Principal Franklin told me. I flew to my chair and sat down, then repeated my question. "Freddie, Carly first I want to offer my… condolences. I know this will be… difficult for you." Carly and I muttered our thanks. Principal Franklin seemed very concerned about his word choice.

"Okay, now you both know Carly is popular internationally, and that makes you somewhat of celebrities. I have received _over 100_ emails since school started _this morning _requesting an interview with you. The press is going crazy. They're outside right now! A few minutes ago I had to call the police and have them deal with the paparazzi."

_Paparazzi? _I though.

"Why is this such a big deal?" Carly asked. Poor Carly, she and Sam didn't – and haven't ever – understood the magnitude of iCarly. They have no idea; they must think all web shows have as many viewers as iCarly. Or maybe they just think that people watch and go back to their lives. They don't realize that iCarly is part of some people's lives; that they talk about it at school and with friends.

"Because, Carly, iCarly is one of the biggest shows on the web. Why do you think you got to go to Japan? I don't think you kids understand how big your show is. Do you remember when Jamie Lynn Spears was pregnant? Do you remember the publicity and drama over that? iCarly is _bigger _than Jamie Lynn Spears. It's huge. You're going to be getting triple the publicity."

"You mean people were calling and asking if we can have a press conference and stuff?" I asked. he nodded. Carly looked back and forth between us, "I don't want to do that!" she protested.

"You'll have to at some point. You better get a story straight." Mr. Franklin said.

"You mean you want us to lie?" Carly demanded.

"No, don't lie. But it's embarrassing to get up there and then regret what you say." I sighed. I really, really didn't want a press conference. "Are people going to be following us? And taking pictures?" I asked.

"Defiantly," Principal Franklin said.

"Well should we schedule a press conference or something? Or an interview?" I asked.

"I would advise that," He said, "would you like to be in a magazine? I have requests from _People, US Weekly, Star, Life & Style, Okay… _you name it, I have a request from it."

"What do you think we should do?" Carly asked.

"The thing about reporters is that no matter what, they won't let up. I would give them what they want. I also have requests from those teeny-bopper magazines that middle schoolers read. I recommend you do two of those, two maybe three gossip magazines, and a press conference."

I gulped. "That's a lot," I said.

"Not compared to the hundreds of interviews flowing in my inbox." He said. "Now you need to choose which magazines you want to appear in."

"Do you have a request from _Teen Vogue_?" Carly asked, in somewhat of a small voice.

"Yep," Principal Franklin said.

"Oh!" Carly squealed. When she saw the look I was giving her she apologized, "Sorry, Freddie…"

"Carly, you choose what magazines we appear in, I don't read magazines." I told her.

"Okay… um, teen magazines… alright send an email to _J-14, Twist_, and _Teen Vogue_." Principal Franklin was writing down the names. Carly seemed pleased, in a sick twisted way, that we were going to be interviewed for these popular magazines. "For the gossip magazines choose _People, Star,_ and _US Weekly._"

"Alright, I've got it." Principal Franklin told us. "I would also recommend you be escorted to school. Don't ride the bus from now on." Carly and I nodded. "You also might want to change the times you leave and come into school. Some days leave or come in half an hour earlier, some days leave or come in half an hour later. Some days arrive and leave on time. Just so they have a harder time catching you. I'll let your teacher know. It won't last much longer anyway, we only have about a week and a half left of school. But that goes for next year as well."

"Okay," we agreed.

By the way, congratulations on making it to Seniors, I know you don't get to celebrate. "

"Thanks…" we muttered. We were walking out of the door when Principal Franklin called,

"Wait!" we turned around. "It's _mandatory _that Samantha attends these interviews. She _must _be there."

"Okay," we agreed again.

"Goodbye," Principal Franklin said. We muttered our goodbyes. On the way back to class Carly and I peeked out the window. Principal Franklin was right, the police had out up barriers around the school to prevent the paparazzi from getting near us.

As if being a pregnant teen wasn't hard enough, we have to deal with aspect of being celebrities. Why can't the world leave us to have our baby in peace?

* * *

_Hey! So what do you think? I'm _VERY _sorry it took this long to get this posted! It would have been up a week ago, but I had the flu and missed an entire week of school. THEN I had all that make up work to do! UGH oh well, better late than never, right? LOL please tell me what you think and again, I am SO sorry :/_

_P.S. – I hope you paid attention to the part about the press. I added that not to shoot myself in the foot – I already have too much I wanted to put into this story! – but because if iCarly was as popular as they say it is, they would have the press around them all the time. So I put that in there just to be realistic. _

_P.S.S- I know the characters are out of character and stuff, and the Seddie isn't exactly Seddie. I'm really sorry about that, but bear with me! since this takes place when they're juniors just imagine that they've matured a little! Please and thanks. _

_Special thanks to CindyKay618 for making me feel like an idiot because I didn't realize that Sam, Freddie, and Carly didn't have to let the world know that she was pregnant! Geez… =) _


	7. Photoshoot

It was early and I was in a limo. That was one negative and one positive, but I didn't know which one overruled the other. This wasn't the first time I had been in a limo, but every time I stepped into one I was amazed. They're so roomy and big… and the FOOD! The driver or someone puts baskets of food in the back just for the people riding. That God for iCarly! The reason I am able to ride in limos and eat the hundred dollar imported fruit in the back.

I was on my way to the first magazine interview with Carly, Freddie, and Spencer. Carly and Freddie because they were, duh, part of iCarly. Spencer, because he loved limos.

It was still too early to be nervous, eight o' freaking clock. But I had been nervous last night. In fact I had been so nervous that Carly had to drug me (with turkey and nightquil) before I could finally fall asleep. That was around one o'clock a.m.

Freddie, wide awake, as he always was in the morning, was jiggling his leg and tapping on the armrest. Spencer was eating a Chinese Apple; he had found a love for them in one of iCarly's other limo experiences. Carly was munching, still half asleep after a night with only a few hours rest, on a bagel. I had already eaten two cinnamon buns, some fruit, and a mocha frappuccino. I was about to dig into a plate of French toast, when Freddie looked at me with disgust and said, "How can you _eat_?"

"You haven't eaten breakfast, how can you _not_?" I demanded.

"Sam, do you _realize_ what's going to be going on today? We have to be very careful about what we say! Have you even decided if you're going to tell them that I'm that father? And if not, what are you going to say? This _isn't _going to be like any other interview we've ever had! It's going to be _terrible_, and the questions are going to be _hard._ What are you going to say when they ask you when you stopped hating me? What are you going to say when they ask how far along you are? What are you going to say when they ask about your influence on the other teenage girls on the planet?" Freddie demanded. He gave a little upset smirk and shook his head. I knew he couldn't look at me, he looked out the window and I looked at my plate.

He had just made all the nerves that were still sleeping come out. I stared at the delicious piece of French toast in my hand and sighed, I knew now that my nerves had fully surfaced I wouldn't be able to enjoy it in full. _God, Freddie! Couldn't you have waited until I was done with the toast? _I thought. But I decided to eat it anyway.

Though Freddie had made me nervous, I still didn't think about what he said. In hindsight, I probably should have.

"So why do we have to get here so early?" I asked Carly. She looked up groggily from her headrest,

"Um, because they want to take pictures…" she mumbled.

"Pictures? Why?" I asked.

"Uh, probably because you're going to blow up to the size of an elephant and they want to remember how you look." Freddie snapped.

"Hey, enough with the attitude Benson!" I shot back.

"CHILDREN!" Spencer howled, "Enough." I didn't want to correct him, but if we were children we wouldn't be on our way to an interview about my pregnancy…

***

Four hours later and the pictures were just starting. I was in such a bad mood I thought I might kill someone before the stupid people around here got to the actual interview!

Carly, Freddie, Spencer, and I arrive at the magazine's building at nine o'clock. Spencer and I immediately started searching for the buffet stand, but before I could find it I got whisked away by some stylists.

I had been scrubbed, plucked, filed, waxed, brushed, makeup-ed, and re-makeup-ed until I could hard feel any surface of my body. Getting me to look good was not an easy task for anyone. I had so much to work with that it took four hours, in comparison to Carly's three. At one point I had to be physically restrained by straps so I couldn't injure the poor people working on my anymore. I think I may have broken one's arm when he waxed my legs.

Though I had injured more than seven people in my first two hours, my breaking point was when Spencer came to see how I was doing while holding a plate of ribs. Honestly, he should know better. I pushed one of my many makeup artists into the wall and he bleed. He was taken away and I haven't seen him since.

It was twelve o'clock, lunchtime, and the people were working hard. Carly and Freddie were both done and waiting out in the food court in bathrobes. I saw them walk by while I was still chained up. That caused me to rock myself and my chair onto the floor. I finally stopped struggling long enough for my stylists to be finished. By that time is was 12:45, and a man knocked on the door to let us know that it was about time for lunch to be over and people to start heading over to the shoot.

I screamed bloody hell, of course. My stylists were so worn out they collapsed in the nearest chair and waited for my tantrum to end. It finally did and they walked over to the man to _insist _that the shoot be pushed back to 1:15 because I would be controllable, to some degree, if I was able to stuff my face with all the delicious foods in the cafeteria.

Their wish was granted and I was released. I sprinted out to the food court in my blue bathrobe and slippers. I grabbed two plated and piled them will all the good looking food I could find. Once I thought that I had a decent amount of food, I turned around to look for my friends. I was met with a room of strangers starting at me like I was some type of zoo exhibit.

"What?" I demanded at them. Everyone looked away except for the three people in the room that were used to seeing me like this. I walked over to their table.

Carly was sipping some type of tea and chewing some gum. Freddie had a coke in his hand and Spencer popped an Antacid tablet. One too many pieces of fruit, I guess.

"Hey," I sighed as I sat down. Being with them was like a breath of fresh air, I was getting so claustrophobic in that room. They knew me well enough not to ask about the screaming that I was sure they heard. They just took in it silence, they knew well enough what happened.

Once I had eaten enough to feel relatively calm again I got a good look at my friends. Carly's hair was breathtaking. They had cut it so she has side bangs, swept off to the side. Her hair was curled into natural waves, falling in a glossy wave around her shoulders. Her made up was natural is, the only thing I could notice right off the back was her eye makeup, and that was minimal.

Thinking about Carly's appearance made me wonder what I looked like. I hadn't looked in a mirror once. _Great,_ I thought, _now __**that's**__ going to drive me crazy… _I would go and find myself a mirror, as there were none in the cafeteria, but the draw of food was too strong and I found myself going back to the buffet for seconds.

I had just finished my third plate – Spencer had to pop another Antacid tablet just to watch me eat – when a bell rang all around us. I jumped; I thought I had skipped school to come to a magazine shoot/interview today. However, I was being forcibly restrained, emotionally destroyed, and having the soul sucked out of me. I guess this place wasn't too far off from school.

Before we went back to our dressing rooms Carly gave me a _BEHAVE! _Look. Freddie walked past without even looking at me.

_What's wrong with him? _I mouthed to Carly. She shrugged, but I bet she has a better sense of what was wrong than I did.

I walked into my dressing room to find a team of emotionally and physically exhausted stylists sitting on a couch rubbing their temples and drinking latte's. The entire group let out a sigh when they saw me, and I let out a grown when I saw them.

"Please," one begged, "let us just do your makeup without any trouble. Please."

_Well since you said please… _I thought like the smart-ass I am. But instead I just nodded.

I gripped the side of my chair as hard as I could while I let them touch my face. That worked, until one of these silly, frivolous, vain, people who devote themselves to appearance noticed that I was starting to ruin my nails. They flipped out, naturally, and rushed to get me a balloon filled with flour for me to squeeze. I love those things, but I always popped them. I decided to focus all my energy on not popping it, which worked surprisingly well. Or, at least, it gave me something to do.

Ten minutes later, the makeup artists stepped back and let out a sigh of relief. I looked good – or at least from their expressions that's what I inferred – and they were still alive. They spun me around to face the mirror and I absorbed what they had done to me.

My eyes were dark and smoky, my lips light pink. I looked like myself but in a strange parallel universe way. My hair was straightened, the blond ends curled towards my face, and I had a bump made of my bangs that was pulled back over my scalp. _I look hot! _I thought.

Once I pulled my eyes away from the mirror, I looked down at my robe. I guessed I wasn't wearing that. "What am I wearing?" I asked. Someone handed me a dress bag. "A dress?" I asked.

"Yes," they all whimpered. I think they thought I was going to go ballistic. They were almost right.

I was about to throw a fit when a huge rush of something I had never felt washed over me as I looked at their sad, pitiful faces. What was it? Was this feeling… _mercy?_

It must have been. Because instead of punching the one nearest to me like I normally would have done, I quietly grabbed the bag and walked to the Chinese paper divider thing that people change behind. Someone handed me a pair of Spandex shorts, how wise of them. I wouldn't have been happy without something other than underwear under the dress.

I unzipped the bad and looked at probably the most amazing dress I had ever seen. It was short, painfully short actually, with a ruffled bottom. The thing would only come about halfway up my thigh. The top was strapless and skintight. It was several shades of blue; it started a dark blue on the highest part, moved quickly to sky blue and back to the dark blue for the skirt end of it. I don't know why I liked the dress; maybe it was the color, or maybe it was the style – which I doubted, it had _ruffles_ – but something about it made me so happy tears welled up inside my eyes. They disappeared before they had time to roll down my cheeks. For this I was glad, someone might have a nervous breakdown if my made up had to be redone.

I pulled on the dress and turned around to look in the mirror. Now I looked _really _hot. To be more actuate, I was stunning. "She's perfect!" I heard some in the room chirp. I looked down at my bare feet. "What shoes-"before I had time to finish my questions I was handed a pair of low-top blue Converse (they matched the lighter shade of the dress) and a pair of tiny socks. I was enthralled by the stylists' choice in shoes; it brought _me _into the whole look.

Once I was completely dressed I was escorted to the photo shoot. I was the last one there; Freddie and Carly were already posing on the white backdrop.

When I looked at Carly my mouth dropped. Her hair and make-up looked incredible, I had already known that. But her dress was beautiful. It was the same style as mine, skin tight then moved down to ruffles. But her dress was white with one single pink stripe around the waste. Her shoes were tiny silver strappy heels. They had a few bands that wrapped around her lower ankles, but they didn't go any higher than that. It suited her very well, she looked gorgeous. Of course, I looked awesome too and I preferred my dress.

Freddie was wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves loosely rolled up around his arms. He looked fancy, but casual at the same time. He was wearing some type of black pants. His hair was casually messy. He looked hot.

I had to admit, I was a little turned on. I walked up to him slowly, "hey," I grinned. Instead of making an attempt to flirt back, which was where I wanted the conversation to go, he gave me a look and turned his head.

Carly had noticed us, but she was standing far enough away to pretend she hadn't heard. "Hey, Sam, come over here. Let me see your dress!" she said.

I walked over to her, confused and angry. What was Freddie's problem? I reached Carly and hissed, "What's his problem?"

"He doesn't like what's going on here," she said.

"Whatta mean?"

"Sam, you don't understand."

"Obviously," I rolled my eyes.

"They're making us gorgeous so we feel comfortable and like they want us to be happy, then they'll rip us apart in the interviews! _Or_, they're trying to make us into a sob story. You notice how we all look like we're going to prom? Senior prom is almost exactly the same time that you're due, we won't get a prom. Or, another or, is that they're trying to make us beautiful and make something bad out of that. Like being pretty isn't a good thing, pretty people are whores, or make us look fat and ugly when you get pregnant. I don't know if you've thought about this, but you're going to get _big_, Sam. like, _huge_. You've already gained a few pounds and this is probably the last time you're going to feel and look amazing!"

I knew she was right. I hadn't thought much about what was going to happen in a few months, I think I was trying to avoid it. I had already gained weight; some of my jeans didn't fit anymore. But now wasn't the time to be planning the future.

"Well what'd we do?" I asked.

"There's nothing we can do, but be VERY careful about what you say. I have a feeling coming here was a mistake…"

Now I was distressed. I couldn't believe what we had gotten into. Why had Carly and Freddie agreed to these damn interviews? I was pissed when I found out, but I accepted the idea and now look where I am! About to have all my words and thoughts drawn out of me and twisted around by some bloodsucking reporter.

"Okay, gang! Gather round! Smile, now!" some flamboyantly gay photographer was shouting. I didn't know how I would be able to smile and look good with all this on my mind. But being on iCarly for so long had made me good at hiding my emotion from cameras.

I stood in front of the white curtain and wrapped my arms around my two friends, hugged Carly, and had Freddie hold me all for the camera. As I flashed a big white smile to the "click click click" of the camera, I dreaded what the interviews would bring.

* * *

Hey, so what'd ya think? I didn't mean to make this chapter all about them getting ready and stuff, but this was just how it played out. Please let me know what you think.

These were the dresses I was trying to describe. I think they suit each girl. Here:

Carly: http:// . com/catalog/product ?ID=449387 &CategoryID =42813

Sam: http:// .com/ catalog/product/ ?ID=449392 &Category ID=42813

(WITHOUT SPACES!)

p.s. when someone tells me my story is 'the best' of anything, it makes me amazingly happy. You have no idea, so I just wanted to say thanks for that (: and thanks to everyone who reviews/favorites/whatevers! (:


	8. You're a bitch

Taking pictures with huge cameras in front of a big white sheet-thing is surreal. I don't see how anyone could get used to this; it's unnatural, bizarre.

I have to admit, I'm having a little bit of fun. I feel, well, glamorous, and like I'm having actual _fun_ for the first time in a while. I fell… _happy. _I get to dance around like a little girl with my two best friends. I feel pretty.

Oh my God these hormones are making me crazy.

Finally the photographer yells "That's a wrap!" I turn to search for a clock on the wall. When I find one I see that an hour has passed.

I turn to face Carly, "Wow, they must have _thousands _of pictures," I say.

"I'm sure it's more than that," she laughs. Freddie walks past us and sits down in a chair, opening a bottle of water and chugging down half of it in one sitting. I sigh, he needs an attitude adjustment. That's coming from _me_…

"OKAY GANG!" a chipper voice comes from around the corner. I exchange panicked looks like Carly, _uh-oh... _

Around the corner comes a woman with bright red lips, strawberry blond hair, and about forty years old going on twenty. Dakota Perry, Seattle's bitchin', backstabbing, career ruining celebrity journalist.

"Hi, iCarly! It's so nice to meat you all," she says, walking around shaking our hands, "Carly… Freddie… and, oh Sam…."

"Hello," we mutter.

"Follow me," she says, gesturing wildly.

We follow her out of the studio and down a hallway, left, right, up stairs ect. Finally, we find ourselves in a white conference room with a huge window overlooking the city. There's a waterfall on the wall in between two wide glass doors. The long table and chairs are matching light brown woods. There's a small table next to the long one with four glasses of water and a tray of fruit. I grab a plate and pile up, but everyone else only gets their water.

"Sit down, sit down!" Dakota says.

We sit down in the middle of the table, me and Freddie on one side and Carly on the other. Dakota sits on the end. She pulls a laptop out of a bag and sets it up. I notice there is a camera on the back, not very convenient for a webcam but perfect for videotaping unsuspecting people.

"Sign these," she hands each of us a clipboard with a contract on it.

"What is this?" Freddie asks.

"It just says that we can use this interview in the magazine." Sounds okay to me, I signed. Carly and Freddie are a little hesitant, but they signed as well.

"So, do you have any questions about how this works?" Dakota asks.

We shake our heads. "Alright," she's giving me a smile that doesn't seem to reach her eyes, a devious smile, "We'll start with Carly."

"Mhm?" Carly squeaks.

"Carly, how did you find out Sam was pregnant?"

"Um, she ran into my house and dumped like five pregnancy tests on my bed." Carly gave a little laugh at the end.

"And what did you do?"

"Made her take the other five."

"They were all positive?"

"Yes."

"What did you do emotionally? Did you cry, did you encourage her to get an abortion?"

"I don't believe in abortion," Carly said. "But yes, we did cry."

"You don't believe in abortion? But wouldn't that be the simplest solution?"

"Yes, but it's cruel. It's inhuman. It's _disgusting_. It's murder." Carly spit the words out at Dakota. Dakota looked mildly surprised.

"Why did you decide to tell your iCarly viewers? Wouldn't there have been an easier way? End the show for a time, perhaps? Or only show Sam from the chest up?"

Carly looked down at the table, ashamed. "We didn't think of that until after we had told everyone…"

"What did your brother think?"

"Well I wasn't there when Sam told him. And he didn't talk about it after. I think he was disappointed."

Dakota turned to Freddie, "Speaking of telling people, what did your slightly, um, abrasive, mother think?"

"She yelled."

"What did she say?"

"She didn't want me –" Freddie stopped. Maybe he felt me nails dig into his thigh when I realized what he was about to admit, or maybe he realized it himself. But we both knew that no one knew who the father was, and a slip of his tong wasn't going to reveal that. I squeezed his leg harder. He slowly moved his hand to pull mine off, but he made it look like he had an itch.

Dakota had leaned forward, she knew she was about to get the scoop. Her eyes were wide with excitement, but narrowed and darkened when Freddie continued.

"Didn't want me to be around Sam. Not that she ever has."

"Did she ask if you were the father?"

"No," Freddie said. That was the truth, too. She hadn't asked, we had told her.

"Who is the father, Sam?"

This was it. The do-or-die moment of these interviews. I hadn't prepared for something to say, a stupid mistake. I seem to be making those a lot lately. But the answer to this question is crucial, I know it. I don't know the consequences of telling the truth, saying it's Freddie. But I know it will not be good. I'm hoping for a brainstorm, something to say. And it hits me.

"That's between me and him," I say. I'm pound of myself; I chose a good thing to say. The time I took to come up with it felt like an hour, when it was actually less than two seconds.

Dakota is disappointed; I can see it all over her face. She inhales deeply through her nose, and lets it out. I bet she's thinking of other questions to get me to admit who the father is, but she starts asking me simpler questions.

"How far along are you?"

"Bout nine weeks."

"Are you keeping the baby?"

"No," I answer. Freddie's eyes flash over to me, only for a second, but long enough for Dakota to catch. A grin spreads across her face.

"Freddie, is that a problem?"

"N-no," he stutters, "I'm just surprised. I wasn't informed that she decided not to keep it."

"And why should you be informed of that?"

"I'm her friend, aren't I? I'm part of iCarly. I should know what she decides to do with the baby.

"Okay kids, let's cut the crap," in 2.5 seconds Dakota's sweet, innocent persona was shed, and her true nature came out.

"I have information from multiple sources that you two have been dating for about six months. I _know _you're the father, even if you won't admit it. I'm very good at me job, I read body language. You didn't know that she wasn't planning on keeping the baby; it's a shock to you. Now just get off your high horse and tell me what you think of Sam giving the damn baby!"

"I don't have to tell you anything," Freddie spat.

"No, I suppose you don't, because either way this interview is going to be one of our top selling issues. Even if our age demographic isn't the same as iCarly's, parents know who you are. They hear their kids talk about you. If they recognize anything on the cover, at all, they'll buy it. It's the way the world works. If you deny it, it's just fuel for the rumor fire."

"I'm sure you're right, and the issue will be a best seller even if we don't tell you who the father is. You know what? You're a bitch. I'm leaving." He got up and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Dakota was smiling from ear to ear, but I didn't know why. "That's all, you can leave now," She told Carly and I, "A limo will meet you out front."

As Carly and I walked back through the labyrinth of hallways I whispered, "Why was she smiling?"

"I don't know," Carly said, "but it's probably bad."

We walked out of the building an indeed a limo was waiting for us, with Freddie and Spencer inside. Freddie sat looking out the window, completely blocking out everyone else. Spencer had two or three baskets of food.

I, like Freddie, sat staring out the window. I had an ominous feeling about the release of the magazine. I wonder what she'll make us out to be.

***

Two weeks passed. School calmed down. I was eleven weeks along now. My body is going crazy. I'm famished and ravenous one second, and the next I'm nauseous and tiny smells that I have every day bother me. I googled week 11 online and read that the most critical stage of development is over, and that the baby should grow an inch this week. What's happening to me is what's supposed to be happening at 11 weeks, so I guess I should be grateful, but I'm not.

Freddie hasn't been talking to me. I think it's because I don't want to keep the baby. I know we need to sit down and have a discussion, but I'm trying to avoid it as long as possible. Carly tells me every day that I should, "do it now!" but I never listen.

The paparazzi have been following us around. Principal Franklin told us that they will subside in a little while, but then get worse as I get farther along in the pregnancy. It's because no one wants to see me as an almost normal size girl, they want to see me huge. I don't know how he knows this, it's not like he's a paparazzi expert or something.

The interview where Freddie lost it still hasn't come out yet. Neither Carly, Spencer, nor I can phantom why. Tabloids are supposed to be quick and immediate, always on top of things. I'm worried about what they might be planning over there.

On the Friday, exactly two weeks after the interview, I pass Freddie in the hallway at school. I look at him, but he looks past me like nothing is there.

That's my line. He just crossed it. I'm done with this; we have to have a talk.

I will not have an opportunity to talk to him for the rest of time during school, so I plan on stopping by his apartment after. When the final bell rings I rush to the front door, anxious to escape in the mass of teenagers where no photographers will be able to spot me.

But when I walk outside I'm blinded by flashing lights. It disorients me, but I focus quickly. My fighting instincts kick in and I begin to punch my way out. Someone thrusts a small booklet of shiny paper in my face and I rip it out of their hands, clenching it in mine. Eventually I fight my way out of the crowds and make a run to the bus stop.

I jump into the nearest bus, not caring where it's going to, and pull the lever that automatically shuts the doors closed before any of the vultures can get to me.

"Um? Excuse me?" the bus driver asks.

"Sorry," I pant, "just drive, I'll get off somewhere."

"Alright, sit down." He says, no questions asked.

I turn around to face thirty or so kids from my school staring at me. I fake them out, lunging forward like I'm coming to get them and they all flinch. They turn away, embarrassed, and I sit down in the front seat.

I look at the magazine that was pushed into my face. My mouth drops. The headline is:

"iCARLY SCANDAL

SAM PREGNANT

FREDDIE STORMS OFF AFTER FATE OF BABY DETERMINED

'I SHOULD KNOW WHAT SHE'S PLANNING ON DOING WITH THE BABY'

'THAT'S BETWEEN ME AND THE FATHER'"

I sigh, not sure if I want to read what it has to say, but I grit my teeth and do it.

The story is not as long as I thought it would be. There is a bit on the history of iCarly, a bit on the history of Freddie and me, and a misquoted interview. I'm getting upset, until I see where it says to go online to watch the video of Freddie calling me a bitch when he learned of what I wanted to do with the baby. Then I'm pissed.

I pull out my pear phone and type in the magazines URL. I tap my foot impatiently while I wait for the page to load. Finally it does, and I click on another link to watch the video.

It's Freddie, Carly, and I sitting in the conference room. The video was taken from that awkwardly positioned camera on her laptop. I shake my head regrettably; I should have made her cover it up somehow.

I click play and watch as the fake scene uncurls:

"Is Freddie the father?" Dakota asks. _WHAT THE FUCK? _I think, _SHE NEVER ASKED THAT!_

"That's between me and him," I hear myself say.

"Are you keeping the baby?"

"No," I answer. Freddie's eyes flash over to me; the video shows them staying longer on me than they actually did.

"Freddie?" Dakota asks sweetly.

"I wasn't informed that she decided not to keep it. I should know what she decides to do with the baby," Freddie says. His face begins to get angry, but the camera shows it like it's directed towards me, when in reality it was for Dakota. "You know what? You're a bitch. I'm leaving." He says, and storms out.

I gasp. Adrenaline floods my body; I really want to punch this bitch in the mouth. In one less than a minute video she made me say that Freddie is the father, and made Freddie call me a bitch! I'm so outraged I could have a fight with every person on this bus and still go for more. I'm about to make the bus driver stop when I read a text from Carly.

_Sam, do NOT do anything physical after watching the video! Where are you? I'm coming to get you. Exerting yourself might hurt the baby. _

"The baby…" I mutter. "The damn baby…"

This baby has ruined my life. It's ruined iCarly, and ruined my relationship with Freddie. It's made it a little awkward between Spencer and me. People at school give me looks. Soon, once I start to show, strangers will give me looks. I blink back a few tears. I _hate _this!

My sadness has taken the adrenaline away, so I text Carly and tell her I'm okay, and that I will meet her at her house. The next time the bus driver stops I get off. It's about seven blocks from Carly's apartment. I walked slowly to Bushwell Plaza, trying not to think about anything. I'm a little numb. Rain starts to fall, it is Seattle, but it fits my mood.

When I get to Carly's home she pulls me into a hug. We stand there and I ask, "What are we going do to?"

"We're going to make it better."

***

The next night I'm standing in front of the camera, just like normal. Freddie is behind it with Carly next to me. The atmosphere in the room has changed. We've done iCarly when Carly and I are mad, Freddie and I are mad, or Carly and Freddie are mad and we still manage to put on a good and funny show. But tonight something is different, tense.

"So if some of you haven't heard, Sam is pregnant." Carly says, this is the first time we've brought it up since we first announced it. I nod.

"And most of you have probably seen the video of Freddie and Sam in the interview." She continues, "That was _not _real."

"Yeah, do you think Freddie would still be alive if he called me a bitch?" I joke.

"Freddie was mad at Dakota, our interviewer. She had a camera and made a video of the whole thing and then twisted our words around and put them in places they don't belong."

"_Nothing_ in that video was true," I say. I put a lot of emphasis on "nothing" because I don't want to be asked directly if Freddie is the father, but I don't want them to think that either.

We continue iCarly like nothing unusual is going on. When the show is over and Freddie shouts, "We're clear!" I collapse into a bean bag chair.

"We already have tons of feedback," Freddie says. Carly sits down next to me and Freddie drags his laptop over to a bean bag and sits down. He pulls of the first email and shows it on the big screen.

"'Dear Sam and Freddie,' wow Carly, is that the first email they haven't mentioned you?" she shrugs, Freddie continues, "'I know the baby is yours and – sorry if this seems a little creepy – but I put your pictures into one of those 'Make me baby' sights to see what your baby would look like. Here are the results:'"

Under that were five – cute – pictures of babies. Carly and I stared as Freddie scrolled down. I didn't say anything, I didn't know what to say. Neither did Carly or Freddie.

We opened a few more emails, but a lot were about how disappointed they were in me, and how they were going to stop watching iCarly. One said that she was going to support us because she loves iCarly and even though it sucks I'm pregnant, nowadays it not unusual.

I puckered my lips and smiled at that one. _Thanks, _I thought.

Suddenly, from behind me, Freddie snaps, "I have to go."

"Okay? Bye?" I say.

"Bye?" Carly says in the same tone. Once he's out the door I turn to her and say,

"What'd you think that's was about?"

"I think he's upset." She says, "You really need to go talk to him about the baby. Sam, I'm serious. If he thinks you were planning on keeping the baby and he finds out you don't want the baby there is going to be major drama. It's his baby too, you know."

"Well what am I supposed to say? I can't ask if he wants the baby, what if he says _yes_? I don't want to keep it Carly, even if it is my kid. Being a good mother doesn't run in my family, and I have no money or job. My school career sucks, I'll be lucky if I can go to community college. We don't make any money off iCarly. I have nothing I can do!"

Carly looks at me, but at the same time looks past me. She's thinking of something. "We don't make any money off iCarly…" she says.

"Yes, I just said that!" I snap.

"But we could."

"How?" I ask.

"We could get endorsers. Sam, think about it! It's a great idea. They put an ad on our site and whenever someone clicks on it we get money! I've heard of people on YouTube doing that! They can make thousands of dollars a month, depending on how many people watch their videos. Hundreds of thousands of people watch iCarly, we could get you money!"

I don't say anything while I process what she has just said. Finally I conclude, "That might work." Carly nods, vigorously. "But who are we going to ask?"

"I'll figure that out. Someone cool, someone who'll pay us a lot of money."

"But they won't want to do that because of our 'scandal,' right?"

"Sam the number of viewers has increased by like 7% ever since this came out."

"7%?" I ask, disgusted.

"7%, of hundreds of thousands," she grins.

"Oh my God," I mutter. I get up slowly to go hug Carly, "you just solved one of my biggest problems. Thank you," I mutter.

"You're welcome. But you need to solve another one." I raise my eyebrows, "You need to go talk to Freddie about what you want to do with the kid." I make a whining noise. "Sam," she says, "I'm serious."

I groan and turn to the door because, even though it sucks, I know she's right.

* * *

_Okay, thoughts? Sorry it took so long to upload. I just wanted to ask a favor; if, in one of the chapters, I mention something that I have already said in another chapter and I make it sound like it's a new thing, please let me know. Does that make sense? I also wanted to say that I did post those links, but fanfiction distorts them or takes them down or something. If you really want to see it just let me know and I can send them to you. Thanks! Please review (: _


	9. A Solution

I stood in front of apartment 8=D with my hand raised in a first, about to knock on the wooden door, but I couldn't do it. I slowly let down my hand and walked away. I was halfway down the elevator when I really think about what I'm doing, and I have no idea what the hell that is.

I'm Samantha Puckett. I don't get scared, EVER. Especially not around guys! Why should I be scared now? When the elevator hits the bottom floor I frantically press the | button to close the doors. I hate riding in elevators with people.

This time when I stand in front of 8=D I do knock and Freddie answers. "Freddie," I say, walking in.

"Sam?"

I look around at his sparkling clean apartment. Mrs. Benson spends any free time she has scrubbing away germs to keep her little Freddie safe. I swear the woman has OCD. I sit down on the brown couch and put my hands in my lap, awkwardly.

"What's up, Sam?" Freddie asks as he sits down, grabbing my hands and holding them in his lap. I turn my head away from him and sigh, then I turn back and say, "We need to talk about the baby."

"Yeah, what about it?" he asks.

"I don't want it," I tell him, bluntly. Freddie is silent and stares at me. I stare back. He doesn't say anything but I can see this hurts him. That surprises me, why the hell would this hurt him? I though the only reason he wanted to keep the baby was because he thought I wanted to keep the baby!

"Why not?" he finally asks me.

"I can't take care of a kid. I never planned on having kids. You may not have noticed, but I don't really like people, and I defiantly don't like kids," I tell him. He grins slightly, almost a grimace, and stares out the window.

"Well..." he says, "I've always wanted kids. True, I didn't want to be a father in high school. But Sam," he turns and looks at me intently, "This is MY kid too. I want to keep it. I don't understand why you don't! I'm getting a job already and my mom is making a nice amount. She could help us! We could be fine."

"I don't. Want. The. Kid," I repeat.

Freddie blows up, "SAM! THIS IS YOUR CHILD! YOU HAVENT GIVEN ME A GOOD ENOUGH REASON FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND WHY WE SHOULD GIVE IT UP! 'I DON'T LIKE KIDS' IS NOT A REASON, IT'S AN EXCUSE! I ALREADY LOVE THIS KID, HOW CAN YOU NOT? IT'S YOUR DAMN BABY! IT'S INSIDE YOU, NOT ME!"

I don't make a move as Freddie yells; I'm too used to fighting for it to even phase me. But I do think about his words. DO I love this baby? No, I don't. The damn thing has ruined my life. But I do feel connected to it. I feel protective, and I feel like I'm responsible for it.

"Freddie, I'm not mothering material! I don't know anything about kids, and it's not like I had a good one to model after!"

"Is that what you're worried about?" he asks, kindly. A quirk about me is that I respond better to screaming and violence than I do kindness. His being nice to me sends a wave of anger and resentment though me that I can't control. I jump up and begin to yell.

"GOD DAMN IT FREDDIE, NO! THAT'S NOT ALL THAT I'M FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT! I'M A PREGNAT TEEN, I'M BROKE! I'M PROBABLY GOING TO FLUNK OUT OF SCHOOL! I DONT KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO WITH THE KID! I'M A WEBSTAR THAT WENT FROM BEING LOVED TO HATED IN TWO MINTUES! I DONT KNOW HOW TO PAY FOR ALL THE DOCTORS VISITS AND STUFF THAT I NEED TO GO TO! I DONT KNOW HOW I SHOULD BE EATING OR WHAT I SHOUDL BE DOING WITH MY BODY! I DONT KNOW ANY FUCKING THING ABOUT BEING PREGO!" I begin to sob, irrationally and uncontrollably.

I collapse on the couch and curl up into a ball. Being pregnant has taken a toll on me. I was always bad at controlling anger, but always good at controlling tears. I convulse on the couch, trying to catch my breath. It's not working and finally I give up, letting the tears flow down my cheeks.

Freddie comes over and holds me. I burry my face into his chest. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I should resist him, he is the one who knocked me up, but for now I'll allow myself to do this. "Shh," he soothes. Eventually I calm down, enough to speak clearly again.

"I would tell you to go on 16 and pregnant, to make money, but you're not sixteen." Freddie jokes lightly. I laughed through my sobs.

"What was that, Sam?" he asks me gently about the random crying, his face growing from sweet teasing to genuine concern. He brushed a hair out of my face.

"I don't know…" I shake my head. I really don't know what came over me. "Anyway…" I prompt.

"Anyway," Freddie says, "I think we should keep the baby."

"I don't."

"I know."

Silence. _Okay? _I think. "Say something," I insist.

"Do you want me to just give you what you want? This isn't about toppings on a pizza, Sam, this is a human being."

"Yeah, but I'm the mother," I insist.

"So? I'm the father."

"I'm the one who's going to have to go through labor."

"I'm the one who's going out to get a job." I huff. He's proving to me that we both share this kid 50:50, and we're both going to have to make a decision. Damn all the rational, logical people in the world. Freddie mimics my huff and waits for me to speak.

"So," I say slowly, "I want to give this kid away, but you don't. What's the thing in the middle?"

Freddie looks at me blankly; I guess he doesn't know either.

"Why do you want this kid?" I demand.

"Why _don't_ you?"

"B-because!" I stutter, "I've already told you why!"

"And I've already told _you_ why I want to keep it!"

I – realizing I've stood up again – fall on the couch. I sigh deeply. "Okay… compromise…. I'm not very good as compromising; you'll have to come up with something."

Freddie stares at his feet and thinks about it a minute. I twiddle my thumbs like an idiot. Finally, he says, "we could give to someone we know, someone close to us."

I don't quite understand what he means, but the idea sounds silly. I ask, "Like who? Carly and Spencer?"

"No…" he says slowly, "I was thinking more along the lines of my mother."

"Oh," I respond. My sarcasm and skepticism drops immediately. I'm not sure how to respond. "Your mom?" I repeat, making sure I heard him right. He nods.

"Wow… um… yeah." I shake my head as I say yeah.

"That wasn't very convincing," Freddie says.

"I'm thinking," I tell him.

Having Freddie's mom take the baby would be a good solution. It would no longer be my responsibility, I didn't have to be in its life, but I could watch my child grow up from a distance. Freddie could be in the kids life just like he wanted and his mom would be able to help him. The only problem was Freddie's mom is a nut. She's insane. Freddie has a borderline complex from her. Even though I don't want to be _in_ my child's life, I still want it to have a good life.

"Freddie, your mom…" I trailed off.

"Is crazy?" he finished my thought.

"Yes."

"I know." I rolled my eyes at him; I _hated _these stupid two word answers he was giving me!

"Fredward, you barely made it out of your childhood without a mental disorder! I don't want my kid to have one! Your mom is _insane!_"

"But she'd love the kid!"

"She loves you and she almost screwed you completely up!"

"Sam, it's the best life we can give the kid!"

"UGH!" I yelled, jumping up. I walked over to the window and leaned against it, looking down on the rain drizzling on the people in the streets.

"Freddie, your mom is loon. There is no way in hell she's taking this kid." He didn't respond for a while, then said,

"Then what do you want to do with it? You won't keep it!"

"Don't you have any cousins or something that are less crazy than your mom?" I demanded.

"Yeah," he said.

"Well call them!"

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY? 'Hey how are you? I was wondering if you wanted to adopt my unwanted love child?'" Freddie yelled.

"YES!" I yelled back.

Freddie hesitated, "are you serious?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am. Get on the phone!"

"Sam, half my family doesn't know about this kid! Do you know what would happen if they found out? They all expect me to go to Stanford or something!"

"And my mom expected me to graduate high school but if I keep this kid that's not happening either!"

Freddie gave me a long look, "I have two people I can call," he said, "but if they don't work I'm not calling anyone else, okay?"

"Yeah!" I said, eagerly. This could be the answer of what to do with the kid! Freddie pulled out his pear phone and dialed a number; he gives me a sigh and a look while he waits for whoever he's calling to answer.

"Hi, Aunt Jenifer?" he said.

"Put it on speaker!" I whispered.

"Hi Freddie!" said Jenifer from the phone, "How are you?"

"Ehhh," Freddie said, "you?"

"Uh oh, I don't like to hear that my favorite nephew isn't well. What's wrong?"

"Well… I'm sort of… in a pickle," he says.

_A pickle? _I mouth. That's something my grandma would say.

"Freddie, you're a seventeen year old boy who talks like an 80 year old woman. What could you have done?"

I laugh, "I think I like her!" I whisper.

"Well I kind of… got Sam… um… you remember Sam right?"

"Pushy, rude, assertive?"

"That's her," Freddie says.

"What else do you say to your family about me?" I ask, giving him a little shove.

"You kind of got Sam _what_?" Jenifer questions, putting words together.

"You know I have to go…" Freddie says, hurriedly, "bye!"

"FREDDIE! Did you get Sam _pregnant?_"

"Yeah…" he groans.

"FREDDIE! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? DIDN'T YOU WEAR A CONDOM?" She yells, I snicker.

"YEAH! I DID! It… didn't work…" Freddie admits.

"Did you put it on right?" Jenifer asks.

"YES! It just didn't work!"

"Humph." Aunt Jenifer snorts, "well why are you calling?"

"Could you do me a favor?" Freddie asks.

"Maybe," she says.

"Sam and I were wondering… see we'd both like to graduate high school and neither of us have any money… I was going to get a job but I'm not sure if that would be enough… and we don't want my mother to take it… anyway… we were hoping you might want to take the baby?"

Silence on the other end. I've never met Jenifer, and today is the first time I've ever heard her on the phone, but I already have the feeling she's a person who isn't silent very often.

"Freddie I already have a kid, remember? Baby Stephanie?"

"Yeah, but she's only like nine months right? Our kid is due this January! They wouldn't be that far apart! When's Stephanie's birthday?"

"August 20th," Jennifer said.

"Okay so Stephanie would only be a year and five months older than our kid! That's not that big of a difference!"

"What would my husband say?"

"I thought he wanted a big family!"

"Yeah… but he wanted me to be the mother!"

"Aunt Jenifer, if you don't take the kid, we'll have to give it to a couple totally random strangers. I don't want that."

"Lemme think about it, okay Freddie? I can't just make a huge decision like this without talking to some people."

"Thank you," Freddie said, "Please think about it."

"I will, and, Freddie? Don't you know condoms are the _one thing_ you pay _retail _for? Didn't your mom ever tell you that? Shesh! Next time wear two!"

"Bye," Freddie chuckles and hangs up the phone.

"She might say yes!" I exclaim.

"She might say no, too," Freddie says.

"Don't be such a downer! This could be some good chizz!"

"Yeah, maybe," he says. I roll my eyes at him, but I'm in too good a mood to really care. Aunt Jenifer sounds awesome; I bet she's a great mom. Much better than Mrs. Benson.

"Do you want to go do something? Like see a movie?" I ask, hopefully.

Freddie looks up from the couch, "Yeah," she says slowly, "let's go." I smile and grab my bag from the floor. Freddie jumps up and grabs my hand. "Let's go see Shrek 4!" he teases.

"Heck yes!" I say, and playfully punch him. We walk out of his apartment, his arm over my shoulder, my around his waist, in much higher hopes about the future.

_WOW! I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so SO SO SO SO SO sorry about how long it's taken to get this up! ): so many apologies! SO SORRY! Agh, please forgive me! Anyway, its summer now and I don't have last minute school work to worry about any more, so the chapters should be coming regularly! Please review! Once again, SO SORRY. _


End file.
